Forever & Always
by SunWillRise2340
Summary: Saoirse is not popular. She's not pretty. She's just plain average. What will happen when a certain someone falls for her? I do not own anything, I am just playing with J.K.Rowling's characters! **ON HIATUS**
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I know I have to update Moments In Time, and I promise that I will...but this plot bunny was nagging me, so I had to write it.**

* * *

I settle myself down on the seat by the window, drawing my knees up to my chest and leaning my head back against my seat. I'm so glad to be going back, so glad to be escaping back to the world in which I belong. I pick at the ragged edges of the holes in my jeans, unravelling the threads further and exposing more of my pale, if somewhat dirty, skin.

The door hisses open, and I look up. A boy leans against the edge of the compartment door, a half-smile adorning his face. Cedric Diggory – smart, handsome, Quidditch captain. An all-round golden boy and heartthrob. Every girl in our year fancies him – every girl including me. That's why I feel a blush come up to colour my cheeks as he sits down opposite me. "Hi, Saoirse. How was your summer?" his grey eyes fix on my face as if he's actually interested in my answer.

"Uh…"I stammer. "Good, thanks." As an afterthought, I make myself tack on, "Yours?"

"Great, thank you," he says easily, resting his head against the headrest. Catching my puzzled expression – I'm wondering why he's here – he seems to read my thoughts as he says, "I saw you sitting all on your own, and thought you looked lonely," he shrugs one shoulder.

I force a shy smile, and say, "Did you go to the Quidditch World Cup?"

"Yeah," he says. "It was great – your country won – though it was bloody terrifying with the Dark Mark and all. Luckily I wasn't on the campsite with all the trouble."

"That's lucky," I say quietly.

Just then, the door hisses open, revealing my so-called best friend, who dances into the compartment in a cloud of bright blonde hair and designer perfume. "Hey, Cedric!" she says with fake (well, I think it sounds quite fake) enthusiasm. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Hi Chelsea. I've actually got to go," Cedric stands up – probably eager to avoid her. "Brett and Xav will be wondering where I've got to."

She pouts, disappointed. "Well – we'll see you when we get to school, won't we?"

"Yeah," he says over his shoulder as he leaves. "See you around, Saoirse."

Chelsea turns an envious green-eyed look onto me – I cower slightly into the train seat. "Why the hell was Cedric-fricking-Diggory talking to you?"

I swallow. "He saw me all alone, and popped in to say hi."

She harrumphs, and settles herself down in the seat that Cedric recently vacated. "And that's so true. Oh well – you would not believe what happened to me!" She launches into an explanation of how she met this 'sex god' on holiday in the Bahamas, and fooled around on the beach with him. And he kissed her – apparently – lots of times. And she wished they had done a whole lot more, but of course, she couldn't, because she's underage, and her parents were there.

I tune out after a while, automatically replying with 'really?' or 'Oh my gosh' when it seems appropriate. Chelsea has such a one-track mind – it's either boys, or fashion, or celebrities – none of which I'm really interested in. To be completely honest, I have no idea how she managed to pass her end-of-year exams last year. Wait, actually, I do. She made me help her revise.

"You're not really listening," she suddenly says, sounding upset.

"Sorry," I say quietly. "I'm just so tired, Chelsea."

"Well…you should still listen. You're my best friend," she huffs, standing up. "I'm going to see the boys."

By the boys, she means the big group in the year above, that Cedric hangs out with. Even if he doesn't like Chelsea very much, some of the others do. My opinion is they only like her because she's a bouncy, bubbly blonde with big boobs and long legs. The complete opposite of me. I'm totally eclipsed by Chelsea, character wise and look wise. Whilst she has the most amazing cascade of golden locks, my hair is boringly light brown and spirals out in a mass of crazy curls. Her eyes are big and clear blue, framed by long, lush lashes. Mine are a muddy green-brown colour. Her skin is always tanned and flawless – mine is pale and freckly. She's tall and curvy, I'm short and skinny. No wonder I always feel inadequate beside her.

Once she's gone, I relax slightly, fishing out my old MP3 player and battered headphones from my tatty bag-for-life. These were a Christmas present from my Da three years ago – before he disappeared off the face of the earth. Now, I treasure them as they're the only way I can escape my world. I slip the headphones over my ears, turning up the amazing sounds of Carrie Underwood and Tim McGraw.

Chelsea says that the music I like isn't proper music – that my favourite singers aren't real celebrities – not compared to the likes of Rihanna, Katy Perry and Justin Bieber. That hurt when she said that – but I've learned to take everything Chelsea says with a pinch of salt. At least my favourite style of music is not about sex, sex and endless sex, like almost all chart music seems to be about nowadays.

I stare out of the window as I listen, singing along softly under my breath. My Ma always said I had a lovely voice, that I should consider going for something like the X-Factor. But, really, I'm far too shy to make it as an artist. I like singing for enjoyment – not singing for other people to criticise me. That's fair, isn't it?

An hour or so later, Chelsea reappears. She walks in, giggling, and shakes my shoulder. "Oi, come out of la-la land!"

I comply, sliding off my headphones and stashing them in my bag. Her face creases up. "You weren't listening to that god-awful country music again were you?"

I don't reply, standing up and stretching. "We'd better get changed into our school robes," I find mine in the bottom of the bag, and slide them on, wincing at how threadbare they look. I force my hair into a braid, and pat my neck to make sure my Ma's locket is still hidden safely in the folds of my clothes. Chelsea elegantly slides on her brand new robes as I fumble around in my old trunk for my wand, cursing quietly in Gaelic as I manage to stab myself in the finger with the corner of a book.

"Bloody hell; stop talking that Irish mumble-jumble!" Chelsea turns to me fiddling with her perfect hair. She hates it when I speak Gaelic, because she doesn't know what I'm saying. That seems to scare her slightly, which, inside, I find quite funny.

"Sorry," I mutter, sitting down again.

"You should be," she huffs.

* * *

"Can I sit here?" Cedric hovers at my shoulder.

"Sure!" Chelsea executes a perfect hair flick. Cedric ignores her, and looks towards me. I nod, and smile hesitantly. He slides onto the bench next to me, and immediately, Chelsea makes a grab for his attention. Luckily, Cedric's friend Xavier chooses this exact moment to make an appearance, sitting down next to Chelsea and starting to talk to her.

Cedric leans in to whisper in my ear, "Thank God for Xav."

"He has good timing," I look down at the table. Uncomfortable with his attention on me, I say, "What N.E.W.T.'s are you doing?"

He grins. "Don't know yet. I'd like to do Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions, but I don't know about any others yet. I'll talk to Professor Sprout tomorrow at breakfast."

"That's cool," I say as Professor McGonagall appears in the doorway, leading a gaggle of frightened-looking first years. Nostalgia hits me – I remember going through that myself. I thought the fifth years were horrifically scary, and now I am a fifth year.

The Sorting is as usual – we clap as we receive about twenty new Hufflepuffs. One of them sits on the other side of me – a little girl with dead-straight black hair.

"Hi, what's your name?" I ask gently.

"Rebekah Whiteman," she says, looking around at all of us fifth-and-sixth years.

"I'm Saoirse O'Reilly," I say.

"I love your accent," she blurts out, and I smile. I like being with little children – because I'm not shy around them. "Is it Irish?"

"Yes," I say at the same time that Cedric leans around me, saying.

"She's our own little Irish national – swears in Gaelic and everything. I'm Cedric Diggory, by the way."

"You remember that?" I ask quietly, my cheeks turning red at his use of 'our'.

"Of course I do," he gives me a cheeky wink.

Little Rebekah speaks up. "What happened?"

Cedric answers for me. "She slipped over last year and broke her ankle."

I grow slightly in confidence as I say, "I had every right to swear."

"But no-one could understand her," he grins, and Rebekah giggles cutely behind her little hand. "I carried her up to the hospital wing, and I had no idea what she was saying to me."

I blush, fiercer this time, as I remember his arms tightly around me and his soothing voice talking to me, trying to distract me from the pain in my ankle. It was the closest I'd ever been to a boy before, and it was the most unnerving and beautiful thing that's ever happened to me. Needless to say, Chelsea was so jealous, and didn't talk to me for three days – well, until I lied and said I didn't like him.

"Wow!" Rebekah's little squeal snaps me out of the memory – she's staring wide-eyed at the plates that have magically filled with food.

"Cool, isn't it?" Cedric asks her as he loads his plate. I put a few potatoes and a couple of slices of meat on mine, before drenching the stuff in gravy and starting to eat. Chelsea turns away from Xavier for a second, and sees us eating together and talking. She glares at me for a second, before turning back to Xavier and continuing with her conversation.

"Tell us about Irish food," Cedric elbows me in the ribs, causing me to jump, and blush, yet again.

"Uh…well…basically…it's potatoes…" I get out. "And beer."

Cedric laughs – the sound is warm and filled with life, makes a smile tug at the corners of my own mouth. Rebekah grins at me, showing off a mouthful of roast chicken. I feel bold enough to add, "I was brought up eating potatoes and pork."

"My Mum's a very…" Cedric pauses. "Experimental cook. Lots of her meals aren't exactly edible…it's funny, really."

"My grandmother grew up in Italy," Rebekah offers. "So she cooks lots of Italian food."

"That's nice," I say.

Chelsea calls across the table in a sugary tone, "What are you guys talking about, because I swear I've never seen Saoirse talk that much before!" I flush, feeling slightly angry and embarrassed that she had to butt in.

"Food," Cedric says. "Saoirse was telling me and Rebekah about Irish cuisine."

Chelsea rolls her eyes. "Food? Are you kidding me?"

"Nope," Cedric grins at her and she smiles back, flirting with all she has. Xavier has turned to the first-years next to him, I realise, and that's why she's giving us her full attention. Damn.

"It's really boring, Irish food. The only thing they seem to be good at is Quidditch," she flicks her hair away from her face.

"Chelsea, I'm sure the Irish are good at lots of other things too," Cedric says.

Too shy to say it out loud, I mutter under my breath, "Like swearing."

"What did you say?" Chelsea demands.

That tone of voice causes me to lose my temper at her, and snap, "Feis ort!"

Her mouth falls open in shock. "What did you say to me?"

"I said," I say in my sweetest tone, using all the confidence I possess, "F*** off."

"How dare you, you bitch!" she snaps, getting up. "How bloody well dare you?" and she storms off to sit at the other end of the table.

Cedric bursts into laughter once she's gone, putting his head down on the table and laughing till there are tears in his eyes. "That was priceless!" he gets out. "The look on her face!"

Even Xavier is chuckling and I know he likes Chelsea more than I do, more than Cedric seems to like her. Little Rebekah is also giggling, with a mouthful of food which is very pleasant, not. _Way to go, girl,_ I say to myself. _First dinner back at Hogwarts and you've already lost your best friend._

After all the food (including the yummy puddings) has been cleared away, the Headmaster, Dumbledore stands up, spreading his hands wide. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices." He pauses slightly to look around the hall. "Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

His mouth twitches in a smile as he continues. "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch cup will not take place this year."

Cedric's mouth drops open, and he looks to me, then to Xavier, who's also on our house's team. "What?" he says, echoing the other voices in the hall. I grimace and shrug, before looking down at the table again.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I'm sure you will enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place here, at Hogwarts. But bear this in mind, it is _only _open to sixth-and-seventh-years; no one below the age of seventeen may enter, for the tasks have been deemed to dangerous to younger students."

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October, and will remain with us for most of the year to compete in the Tournament – I know you will be courteous and polite to them and will give your whole-hearted support to our Hogwarts champion, whoever he or she might be. Now, you all must be refreshed for lessons tomorrow, so I'll finish there. Bedtime. Chop Chop!"

Rebekah slides her hand into mine as we push back the benches, standing up. "Where do we go?" she asks nervously.

"The prefects are taking all the first years," I say. "Or you can come with me."

"I'll come with you," she decides as we all walk out into the Entrance Hall, laughing and chattering. Cedric's disappeared with Xavier somewhere – I'm kind of disappointed, and kind of pleased that I don't have to blush and stammer all the time.

Rebekah looks around in wide-eyed amazement as I lead her down some steps on the left hand side of the hall, towards the cellar next to the kitchens. We bump into a huge crowd of Hufflepuffs as we stream into the common room, which has been opened by one of the people in front. "This is our common room," I tell my little friend. "You get in by tapping the middle barrel in the second row to the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'

"That's so cool!" she enthuses, staring around her at our comfy common room, the younger years disappearing through holes in the walls to their dormitories and the older years lounging in chairs near the fireplace. Chelsea is nowhere to be seen – neither is Cedric. I point Rebekah down the right path, and then settle myself in my favourite armchair, right in the darkest corner of the room. I'm so pleased to be back here, so pleased. I have no idea what I'd do if I weren't a witch.

You see, my life was good, up until the riots. We weren't rich, well, we were kind of the opposite, living on whatever Da's wages could buy us. But we were happy. I went to the local primary school, and I was comfortable there. I had a couple of close friends; I got on with my teachers. Then, when I was ten years old, my life imploded. My Da got involved in the riots, got killed by the police. My Ma was inconsolable – she would lie in her bed, shutting out the world, weeping. She couldn't do anything. At ten years old, I was suddenly the main provider of the house. I had to work, to drop my schooling to keep us in our flat, to keep us alive. After my accident, and all, I was so glad to get my letter for Hogwarts, so glad that I could escape for most of the year…

"Saoirse!" I snap out of my thought train, blinking up at Cedric, who's standing there like a lemon in front of me. "I was just going to say goodnight," he says.

"Oh…okay…Goodnight," I say slowly.

"See you in the morning," he grins.


	2. Chapter 2

"I mBaile Athá Cliath, Ní fhaca mé riamh,  
Aon chailín níos sciamhaí ná Mol Ní Mhaoileoin,  
Ag stiúradh a barra,  
gach áit ins a chathair,  
Le ruacain is sliogáin, is iad go breá beo!

_Is iad go breá beo, is iad go breá beo,  
Le ruacain is sliogáin, is iad go breá beo._"

I sing softly to myself as I wander into an empty classroom, fiddling with the end of my robes. I perch on a desk, fiddling with a couple of pieces of colored thread that I found lying around in the dorm. It's comforting, just plaiting these strands together, and singing in Gaelic, knowing no-one is watching me.

"You've got a lovely voice," a voice says from behind me. I jump, holding a hand to my chest, turning around. So much for being alone. Cedric is standing in the doorway, watching me. "What were you singing?" he comes into the room properly, shutting the door behind him.

"Uh…Molly Malone…you know, in Gaelic…"

"What's that?" he sits next to me, his arm brushing mine and making me shiver.

"An old Irish folk song."

"Can you sing it in English?"

"If…you…like," I say hesitantly. I take a deep breath, "In Dublin's fair city, where girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone, as she wheeled her wheel-barrow, through streets broad and narrow, crying cockles and mussels alive, alive-o!"

"I have heard that before," he says.

"It's quite famous," I say.

We sit in silence for a few seconds, then Cedric asks, "What other music do you like?"

"Country," I say. "Carrie Underwood, Tim McGraw, Luke Bryan, Colbie Caillat…that sort of thing."

"I've never heard of any of those artists," he says honestly.

"Chelsea says that they're not proper celebrities."

"Chelsea's an idiot," he winks at me; I smile back.

"What music do you like?" I ask.

"The Weird Sisters," he says, laughing at my blank expression. "I'm guessing you've never heard of them."

"No," I say.

"We'll have to do a music swap sometime," he says.

"Sure," I blush.

* * *

"Are you going to enter?" I ask Cedric as we walk out of the great hall after the Welcoming Feast.

"Probably," he shrugs. "I'm old enough."

A chill runs up my spine and I shiver as he continues, "It would be great if one of us Hufflepuffs was chosen, wouldn't it?"

"It would," I agree, as we turn to go down the steps to the common room. Just then Rebekah appears, dragging her friend Hayley behind her.

"Sheer, Sheer, did you see?" she grabs my hand.

"See what?" I ask her.

"Chelsea! She was practically drooling over that guy…Krum something or other. It was so funny!" she giggles.

"He's not that handsome," Hayley butts in. "What's the deal with him anyway?"

Cedric answers for me. "He's the Bulgarian Seeker – you know, in Quidditch. Very famous – he competed in the World Cup this summer."

"That's boring," Rebekah says. She doesn't really care about Quidditch. "But anyway, did you see that pretty girl from Beauxbatons?"

"Yes," Cedric says. He glances at me, and I see a faint flush tinge his cheeks. "She looked part Veela."

"I didn't think she was pretty," Hayley says, putting her hands on her hips. "Well, not as pretty as you, Sheer."

I blush bright red. "I…I'm not pretty," I stutter, pleased and surprised at the compliment.

Startlingly, Cedric speaks up, "You are pretty, Saoirse." I blush even more – even though Cedric and I have been hanging around together a lot more, I still haven't got over my crush on him.

"They're right," Rebekah speaks up. I smile at them all.

"Thank you."

* * *

"The champion for Durmstrang is…Viktor Krum!" Dumbledore announces, reading off the charred slip of paper. Krum gets up from the Slytherin table and slouches to the end of the hall, disappearing into the empty chamber. Cedric leans in to whisper, "No surprises there," to me. I laugh as he straightens up again and says something to his friend Brett who is sitting across the table from him. Chelsea shoots me a dirty look from further down the table, where she's surrounded by a group of 'bitches from hell' as Rebekah, Hayley and their other friend Maggie call them. Since she 'dumped' me as her best friend, she's started hanging out with our dorm mates, who she has effectively turned against me. Sigh.

"The champion from Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour," Dumbledore calls as the Goblet of Fire shoots another piece of paper out.

"That's the Veela girl," Maggie says to me.

"She is pretty," I say, watching the girl gracefully rise from her table and dance towards the antechamber door, her long sheet of silver-blonde hair swinging delicately behind her. Rebekah gives me a look, and I smile at her.

"And finally…" everyone in the hall is holding their breath, waiting for the announcement of the Hogwarts champion. Cedric is sitting, tense beside me, holding his breath.

"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!" Our table erupts into cheers – Cedric's face has split into a wide grin as he gets up, giving me a smile and heading up the hall.

"Yes!" Brett and Xavier are pumping their fists, practically bouncing up and down in their seats. I hug Maggie, Hayley and Rebekah in turn, grinning so hard that my cheeks are starting to ache. He's done it – he's our champion.

All of us at the Hufflepuff table are too busy celebrating to realize that the Goblet of Fire is glowing red once more; another piece of paper shoots out of it. Dumbledore calls for silence again, looking worried.

"Harry Potter," he reads out.

* * *

"I swear they're following me!" he complains to me and Brett as we make our way back to the common room after dinner, looking over his shoulder as a group of giggling girls come around the corner, flicking their hair and throwing flirty smiles at Cedric's back.

"It's your own damn fault for being too handsome," Brett tells him, ducking to avoid a punch to the arm.

I laugh quietly – the girls are only following Cedric because he's the best looking guy in his year. Scrap that – in the whole school…but then again I would say that…wouldn't I?

We escape them by getting into the Hufflepuff common room, throwing our bags down and flopping in a group of armchairs by the fire. I cross my legs and pull out a textbook.

"Still studying?" Brett asks me.

"Too right. I've got so much homework," I sigh, shooting a glance at Cedric out of the corner of my eye. He smiles at me, leaning forward to see what I'm reading; his hand accidently brushing mine. I stiffen very slightly as he grins. "Charms, I see."

"Too right," I continue reading, trying to ignore his gaze on me. I finish the reading, and then put it away, taking out my folder of songs. It was Cedric's idea – to keep a record of the lyrics of my favourite songs so I have access to them at a moment's notice.

Unfortunately, Chelsea chooses this moment to come prancing across the room, trailed by her three new friends, Fern, Kristin and Sheena. "Hey Cedric!" she enthuses, perching on the edge of his armchair. He stiffens as she throws him a flirty grin. "Brett," she acknowledges Brett's presence – completely ignoring me.

Her friends, it seems, have different ideas. Sheena and Fern sit down next to me, Fern snatching away my folder. "Give that back!" I protest quietly, but they take no notice of me, flipping through the pages I've been so careful to create.

"What kind of music do you call this?" Fern says loudly, attracting the attention of Kristin, who's practically flung herself across Brett. Brett, needless to say, is looking very uncomfortable.

"What's the little leprechaun been doing now?" she asks lazily.

"Listening to that country shit," Sheena says.

Cedric has succeeded in pushing Chelsea off him, and sits up, glaring at the two of them. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all," he snaps.

"It's a free country," Fern raises an eyebrow as she pulls one of my pieces of parchment out. "What the hell do you call this?"

"Gaelic," I say softly, averting my eyes from them.

"Ooh, say something in Gaelic," Kristin says. "Chelsea told us all about it."

That makes me see red again, "Trasna ort féin!" I say rudely before I can stop myself. _What is it with annoying girls and the f-word?_ I wonder to myself.

I notice Cedric grinning at me, having caught the gist of what I just said. Their mouths flop open in shock. "What?" Kristin stands up.

"She just told you to go and f*** yourself," Cedric says, standing up and picking up his back. "I'm going to bed. Coming, Brett?"

"Sure," Brett stands up as I snatch my book off the girls, and grab my bag, leaving the four of them frozen in shock.

"Goodnight," Cedric tells me.

"Night," I say, heading into the girls dorm tunnel.

* * *

I'm sitting the library a couple of weeks after that incident when Cedric rushes in, dumping his bag next to me, and sitting down. "The first task is dragons," he says in a low voice. I drop my quill on the table, abandoning my essay as I turn to look at him in shock.

"Do you have to kill them? How do you know?" questions spill from my mouth.

"Harry told me." He looks at my expression. "Oh, come on Saoirse. Harry Potter. He's seen them. And no, we only have to get past them."

"How?" he asks.

"I don't know," he says. "I was wondering if you could help me research."

"Of course," I say. "I've just got to finish this last sentence, and then I can help. Go find some books."

We spend that entire evening sitting and reading about dragons, talking and drawing different plans on scrap pieces of parchment, finally coming up with a good plan.

"That should work," I say, folding up the paper to put in Cedric's bag. "You can do that spell?"

"Yes," he says. "We had to learn it for our O.W.L.s."

"It will be fine," I say, trying to convince myself more than him.

"I hope," he says.

* * *

The night before the task, Cedric is a bundle of nerves. Nothing Brett, Xavier or I can say will make him feel better – nothing at all. Finally, I stand up. "Let's go for a walk," I suggest quietly.

"Okay," he says. We leave the Hufflepuff common room, and wander along the dark corridors, arms occasionally brushing. We don't talk, but it's a comfortable silence, a nice silence.

After a while, he stops me, and we sit down on a windowsill opposite the Charms classroom. "I'm scared," he admits after a while. "Very scared."

"It doesn't matter," I say quietly.

"How?" his grey eyes gleam through the darkness at me, staring straight at me.

"I'll tell you a bit of wisdom that my Ma shared with me when I was seven years old," I say, unconsciously taking his hand in my own. It's warm, slightly calloused; his fingers tighten around mine. "Everyone knows fear. The bravest hide it, that's all."

"You're so wise," he hums, releasing my hand. I feel a slight tug of disappointment when this happens, but it doesn't last long, as he puts his arms around me, pulling me close so I can rest my head on his shoulder. My whole body is tingling – I'm so close I could just reach up and kiss him, right here and now. But I won't…I don't truly know how he feels about me…I won't embarrass myself.

"You must promise me to stay safe," I say, suddenly struck by a chill again.

"I promise," he says, resting his cheek on top of my head. We stay like that for a long time.

* * *

"You did brilliant!" I rush towards Cedric who's just coming out of the champions' tent, half of his face covered in thick orange paste. I stop in front of him, uncertain, but he puts his arms around me and pulls me into a hug, his arms warm around me.

"Thank you," he says, swaying on the spot, still holding me tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"It's no problem," I say against the shoulder of his robes. "You were amazing. I'm so proud of you."

We break apart, but Cedric keeps hold of one of my hands. "How's your burn?"

"Mending," he grins ruefully. "Madam Pomfrey said that the paste will disappear in about an hour."

The tent flap opens again, and the girl champion from Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour, appears, looking pleased and relieved. "'ello again, Cedric. Who's zis?" she says, taking in our clasped hands.

"This is my friend, Saoirse," Cedric grins at me, as much as the paste will allow. "Saoirse, this is Fleur."

"It is lovely to meet you, Seersa," Fleur attempts my name. I smile at her – when I first saw her at the Welcome Feast, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but she seems very nice now.

"It's lovely to meet you too," I say. Her brow wrinkles in confusion.

"Sorry, could you speak slower? I do not understand your accent."

"Sorry," I say, doing as she asked. "I said 'it's lovely to meet you too.'"

She smiles again. "I 'ad better be going."

"We'd better go too," I say. "I saw Brett and Xav run off to set up a party."

"Party?" Cedric asks.

"For you, silly!" I elbow him in the ribs.

He cracks another smile. "We'd better not keep the guys waiting then. See you around, Fleur."

"Bye!" she says as we turn to head back up to the castle, our linked arms swinging in-between us.


	3. Chapter 3

Cedric catches me coming out of Transfiguration one day, a nervous smile plastered across his face. "Hey, Saoirse. How was Transfiguration?"

I walk alongside him, down to lunch. "Great thanks. How was…whatever you just had?"

"Double free," he says. "Uh…I have a question to ask you..."

My heart is pounding; I look up at him to see a blush tingeing his cheeks pink. "Shoot," I say, nibbling on my lip.

"Do you want to come to the Yule Ball with me?"

"The _what_?" I ask.

"Oh…I forgot that you wouldn't know. It's a part of the Tournament – the ball on Christmas day."

"Do we have to wear dress robes?" I ask. "Because I haven't got any…"

"I'm sure if you talk to Rebekah…" he pauses. "So, will you go with me?"

I grin up at him, taking his hand. "What do you think, silly?"

He squeezes my hand and I blush. "You'll come?"

"Of course I will. But I warn you now – I cannot dance to save my life."

He shoots me a sideways grin. "I can."

"Good." I say. "Come on, then, I'm starving."

* * *

I open the door to Rebekah's dorm to find the three of them sitting around on Maggie's bed, laughing their heads off. Another two girls, both with long blonde plaits, sit by the fireplace, heads bent over something.

"Bekah!" I call.

Her head whips around. "Oh, hey, Sheer. Come in!"

I close the door behind me and go to join the three of them on the bed. "What brings you here?" Hayley asks.

"I need your help," I say.

"What?" they all chorus in unison, looking for all the world like a little group of chicks.

"You know the Yule Ball…" I say.

"Yes," Maggie says. "I can't believe we can't go. It's so not fair."

"Well…" I choose to ignore that little outburst. "Cedric asked me to go with him…but I don't have anything to wear."

"Oh My God!" Rebekah claps her hands to her mouth. "That is so cool!"

"But how come you don't have anything to wear?" Maggie asks.

"Uh…Mags…when I'm in Ireland, I live in a care home. I don't exactly have any money," I admit.

"You poor thing!" Hayley says, putting her hand over mine. "Wait! I have an idea!"

"Spill," Rebekah leans forward.

"I'm not telling. Just come here three hours before the ball starts, and we'll get you ready," Hayley instructs me. "Now, shoo. We have some planning to do."

* * *

The whole school is buzzing in the run-up to the Yule Ball – everyone is asking everyone out, rumours flying around like owls on a sugar high. So many girls come up and ask Cedric that he's taken to hiding in doorways whenever he sees them coming. Even Fleur asked him – though when he said he was going with me, she was very nice about it.

One day, when I'm sitting alone in the library, as Cedric, Xavier and Brett have disappeared off to god knows where, Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor fourth-year approaches me. "Uh…excuse me, can I sit here?" she asks, pointing to the chair next to me.

"Sure," I say, intent on blowing the ink on my essay dry. She gets out some work, but after a while stops, and looks at me.

"It's Saoirse, isn't it?" she asks.

"Yep," I say, putting my essay down. "You're Hermione."

"That's right," she says. "I just wanted to ask you something, if that's okay?"

"Sure," I say, turning to face her.

"You're going to the ball with Cedric Diggory," she states.

"Yes," I say, wondering where this is going.

"Well…" she blushes. "Viktor Krum asked me…and I said yes…"

"That's nice," I say.

"But I don't really know about girly stuff, and I'm not exactly friends with the girls in my house."

I grimace. "I wish I could help, but I'm useless at that kind of thing too. I have a couple of first-year friends who are helping me out."

"Oh," her face falls slightly.

"I could help you find something, if you wanted, though. I'm sure my friend will have a Madam Malkin's catalogue somewhere…"

"Thank you; that would be great!" she says.

* * *

"I'm going to get you!" I run after Brett with a handful of snow, cold melt water dripping into the collar of my cloak.

"Can't catch me!" he sticks his fingers in his ears and pokes his tongue out at me.

"Very mature!" I say, chucking a snowball at him. It misses by a hair. Suddenly, he holds up his finger to motion silence. I walk towards him, and he whispers in my ear.

"Look, there's Cedric!"

"Let's put snow down his robes," I giggle mischievously, picking up a handful of snow in my gloved hands.

"Great idea!" he chuckles.

We move through the snow slowly, trying not to catch his attention – he's talking to Professor Sprout. Brett motions silence to her as I creep right up behind him, and pull the loose collar at the back of his robes open very slightly…there… just wide enough to dump my snow down his back. His reaction is hilarious – a squawk which I've never heard from him before. He turns around to find me shaking with laughter, and Brett with a huge grin on his face.

"You are going to pay for that!" he threatens, making me drop to the ground in hysterics. Even Professor Sprout is laughing.

"I'll leave you three to your snowball fight, then," she says.

"Thanks, Professor," Cedric says, scooping up a handful of snow and pelting it at me.

* * *

After I've dried off and got changed, I head down to the girls' dorm, and slip into Rebekah, Maggie and Hayley's room. They're clustered around the mirror, a dress-bag laid out on the bed, and multiple tools of torture laid out on a table.

"Look, she's here!" Maggie squeals.

"Sit down," Rebekah says. I comply, sitting with my hands in my lap. They immediately begin their little 'spa' thing as Hayley calls it, pulling and prodding at my hair, face, and nails. After a while, Maggie says,

"Are you going to kiss Cedric tonight?"

"What?" my head shoots up. Rebekah smacks me.

"Head down," she orders. I can't believe I'm at the mercy of three little first-years.

"I said, are you going to kiss Cedric tonight? Because he likes you."

"You're being silly," I say.

"We're not," Hayley interjects. "I overhead him talking to Brett in an empty classroom – he was worrying."

"My god," I say under my breath.

"Do you like him?" Rebekah asks, pulling her brush fiercely through my hair.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"I think you like him," Maggie says. "Because you two are always touching, and you always blush when you speak to him."

"I'm not saying anything," I say, miming locking my lips and throwing away the key.

After another two hours (how on earth did it take that long?) I am pronounced ready. "You can look in the mirror now!" Hayley says, steering me towards the mirror. I stare at the girl reflected there – she doesn't look like me…she…she looks beautiful.

The dress is gorgeous – a dark green with silver detailing around the waist, simple, and perfect. It matches the locket she has around her neck. Her light brown hair is wavy, instead of madly curly and the green dress and light gold eye-shadow make her eyes greener – they make them pop, almost. Her lips are soft and rose-coloured and her skin shimmers slightly. "You guys are genius'" I say quietly. "I don't know what I can do to say thank you."

"You can kiss Cedric," Rebekah says. "Now go – it starts in ten minutes."

I slip on the silver pumps, and gather up my skirts, smiling at the girls as I head out of the door, into the common room. Cedric said that he'd meet me in the entrance hall, so he's not here, but most of the older people in Hufflepuff house are here, in a riot of colour. I see Chelsea looking slutty in a low-cut dark blue dress, and her friends in pink, purple and yellow respectively. Another girl I know, Jemma, is looking very pretty in her soft grey dress.

I head out of the door and walk alone up to the entrance hall, pausing at the stairs that go down into it. Just then, someone taps me on the shoulder; I turn around to see Hermione Granger standing there nervously, wearing the floaty dress of periwinkle blue silk and chiffon that I helped her to pick out from the catalogue a couple of weeks ago.

"You look amazing," we both say at the same time; she giggles nervously, patting her up-do. "I love your dress," she says.

"Maggie, Hayley and Rebekah picked it out," I shrug. "Your dress really suits you."

"It's thanks to you," she smiles.

"Shall we go down?" I ask. We walk down the stairs together, skirts trailing on the stone floor as we approach where Professor McGonagall (wearing tartan dress robes and a thistle wreath on her hat) is standing with the champions. Fleur Delacour is looking stunning in a silvery grey dress, next to her partner Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, who obviously can't believe his luck. Harry Potter is looking nervous next to a dark-haired girl in a bright pink dress with golden bangles up and down her wrists. Viktor Krum is staring at Hermione as she approaches him, smiling excitedly. And Cedric – his eyes are fixed on me, a beam spreading across his face. I walk quickly up to him, my long skirt swishing around my ankles, my face splitting in a smile.

"What do you think?" I ask, giving a little twirl. He catches my hands so our palms are pressed together; leans in so his face is close to mine.

"I think you look like a princess," he says, voice very low. "You look so beautiful, Saoirse."

I blush. "Thank you."

"Champions!" Professor McGonagall calls, beckoning us to come and stand around her. Once we are gathered, she says, "Get into pairs in a line, and follow me."

Cedric and I (not by our own choice) are at the front, my arm resting on top of his. "It'll be fine," he says quietly to me.

"I hope," I say, tugging at my skirt.

The doors open, and music starts to play, we enter the hall, start walking up to a large, round table where the judges are seated. I hold in a gasp as I look around the room; the teachers have sure been busy. The walls are covered in sparkling silver frost, garlands criss-cross above our heads, and the whole room is lit with candlelight from a hundred tiny tables that are filled with students in their dress robes.

As we walk, I keep my head held high – especially as I can feel Chelsea's glare burning through me. I don't give her the satisfaction of looking at her as I walk past, though. I would never do that. We sit down at the top table next to each other, Cedric is next to Dumbledore and I am next to Ludo Bagman.

"Well, Mr Diggory, who's this lovely lady you've brought with you?" Ludo Bagman asks jovially as we order our food from our plates, and start to eat.

"This is Saoirse O'Reilly," Cedric says, squeezing my hand under the table. "She's one of my good friends."

"Irish, eh?" he says.

"Yes," I say. Ludo Bagman smiles broadly.

"That's lovely. May I say you look very nice tonight, Miss Saoirse."

"Thank you," I say as Cedric leans in to whisper,

"Nice is an understatement." I blush and smile down at my plate.

After the dinner, Dumbledore clears away the tables, and the Weird Sisters (well, I assume that they are the Weird Sisters) appear, and take their places on the stage. The four champions, and their partners get up – Cedric leads me onto the dance floor, placing one hand on my waist and taking my hand as they start to play a slow tune. I rest my other hand on his shoulder, and, seriously pleased he showed me the basic step, we start to dance.

It's kind of nerve-racking – being watched by so many people whilst I'm doing something I'm not very good at, but as I get into the swing of it, I relax slightly, enjoying being held and lead around the floor. After we've had a few dances together, Cedric leans down and asks, "Do you want to go for a walk outside?"

I blush again. "Sure." He takes my hand and leads me through the throng of dancers, out into the Entrance Hall, then outside, into the newly grown rose garden. Fairy lights – well, real fairies actually – flutter about overhead, making the night seem magical, sparkling. We walk in silence for a bit, in between the rose hedges, until we find a bench, and sit down. Cedric, automatically, it seems, puts his arm around me and pulls me close – just like that night before the first task. I stay very still, not wanted to shatter the moment. His hand reaches up to cup my cheek; fingers trailing gently across my lips, leaving them tingling. Is this really happening? Oh God, is it really happening? I lift my head to look him straight in the eyes; they're so beautiful, stormy and smoky, like the sky on a rainy day.

He leans in closer; I can feel his warm breath on my face. I giggle nervously – I can't stop myself – as his lips gently, slowly touch mine. My heart is beating erratically in my chest as I wind my arms around his neck pulling him closer, his lips taste like peppermint. His hand runs through my hair as the kiss deepens; he pulls me closer to him so I'm almost on his lap, resting one hand against his chest. My head spins as he pulls away, looks at me. I touch my lips in awe with the tips of my fingers, staring at him. "Wow," I breathe.

"Wow," he echoes. "That…that was the most amazing kiss…"

"That…that was my first kiss," I tell him, honestly.

He seems kind of surprised by this as he hugs me. I rest my head on his chest as he says, "I can't really believe that…you're so beautiful…"

"I'm not…" I say. "I'm not beautiful, not at all. I'm average."

He tilts his head down to kiss my jaw. "Who told you that?"

"No one," I say, shivering as he continues to pepper my face with kisses, saying,

"You are beautiful, and whoever thinks that you aren't is a complete idiot." I smile as his lips find mine once again.


End file.
